


Caught

by SnowyDesolation



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Family, The Beginning, Winter Soldier - Freeform, mission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:01:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23793529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowyDesolation/pseuds/SnowyDesolation
Summary: Had you ever wondered, what made James Buchanan Barnes stop resisting HYDRA?Was it plain and simple torture and brainwashing?Or was it that they offered him the one thing he couldn't say no to, over and over again?After all... who would want to remember?
Kudos: 3





	Caught

There was nothing stronger than an everlasting bond, an eternal friendship. Love.  
When the Russian scientists tried to wipe James Barnes’ memories away with torture, it worked. Of course it worked.   
But they came back. They always came back.  
Each and every time, he fought. He kicked, screamed, punched, and tried until he was drugged unconscious.  
He had to get to Steve. He had to tell him what he found out; what HYDRA was doing, where they were. He had to get back to the war. He needed to warn everyone, and finish his part in the War.  
Once or twice, he almost succeeded in escaping – credit due to the metal arm, of course. It packed quite a punch. But it still wasn’t enough. 

Hope for the scientists about their new project was being shaken... until one scientist proposed an idea.  
They let him remember, and Arnim Zola entered the room, holding something behind his back, hiding it from the Soldier. “Sergeant Barnes,” he greeted.  
The only greeting the Soldier gave was a glare.   
“I understand that you want to get back to Captain Rogers to warn and help him,” he begun. “But I regret to inform you, that is not possible. For you see,” he threw a newspaper down on the Soldier’s lap, “he is dead.”  
“CAPTAIN AMERICA: KILLED IN ACTION,” the headline wrote.  
James’ jaw tensed. Hands clenched into fists. Glare hardened.   
“I know we barley know each other, so you should know it is unlike me to kick a man when he is down. But, Captain Rogers’ death was your fault.”  
Eyes widened. Stomach clenched. Heart dropped.  
“You abandoned him, right when he needed you the most. You left him to fight an impossible fight all on his own. You were stupid, selfish. You wanted glory, and you fell to your doom, and caused his, with it. It’s a shame it ended the way it did. He was only a kid.”  
Lies... it had to be lies.  
“The World’s First Superhero crashed into the ocean in a plane full of explosives,” the article read.  
“One of the most devastating fights in The War.”  
“Agent Carter was the last in contact with Rogers before the crash.”  
“America fighting for hope.”  
“Memorial will be built in his honour.”  
“The silver lining being that he can be with his mother and best friend since childhood, once again.”  
Tears.  
No.  
It was real.  
Steve... Steve was dead.  
And it was his fault.  
James was supposed to be there, to protect him, to save him from the big guys and help him win.  
Not abandon, and leave him all alone...  
“I can offer you a second chance,” Zola spoke, breaking the silence. “I am with SSR, an organization started to protect America, and the world. We have provided you with a new arm, better than you could have ever asked for. I can help you forget that you killed Steven Rogers, and give you another opportunity to fight; to help shape the future. You will be a hero.”

‘You killed Steven Rogers.’  
His eyes closed.  
Firsts tightened.  
‘I can help you forget.’  
A single tear tell from his eyes as he squeezed them closed.  
And he nodded.

  
First was that chair... that damn chair, so cold and hard.  
Then came the pain, the electric shocks that shot through into his mind, through his veins, destroying who he was.

Longing.  
Rusted.  
Seventeen.  
Daybreak.  
Furnace.  
Nine.  
Benign.  
Homecoming.  
One.  
Freight car.

He was ready to comply.

The Soldier stood in the livingroom of the house, gun pointed at a man, while a woman stood behind; shaking, crying, pleading, begging, holding the man. Her husband. He stood tall; obviously afraid, but unwilling to back down.

The Soldier’s head cocked slightly to the side.  
‘Who are they? What could they have possibly done to deserve this?’  
No... that wasn’t right.  
His orders were to kill and not ask questions.   
So, why? Why was he wondering?  
Why wasn’t he pulling the trigger?  
... Why did this feel familiar?

“Please, James, please– don’t do this, this isn’t you!”

James?  
Question marks filled his head.  
Nonetheless, his posture didn’t phase; he kept his arm extended straight out in front of him without a slightest shake, aiming at the man on the other end.

‘Your mission is to kill all occupants of this house. No questions asked. A bullet to each of their heads, then get out of there. It is simple, you should have no problems... but you should know, it is just a test. Prove how good you are. Do you understand?’  
He understood.  
He had a mission.  
A test. He could easily pass.

He raised his arm to point the gun from the man’s chest to his head.  
He pulled the trigger.  
He didn’t blink.

The woman screamed, she grabbed onto the lifeless body and fell to the floor with it; holding it, clinging to it, sobbing into it, talking to it.

The Soldier’s hand lowered, and he fired a bullet into the woman’s head.  
He stood for a moment, listening to the quietness that filled the house.  
Perfectly quiet. No more sobbing, pleading, unnecessary noises.   
Just silence.  
It was peaceful.

Just before leaving, there was a muffled sob somewhere in the distance.  
‘Kill all occupants.’  
He had to find where that muffled sob came from.

In one of the bedrooms, a small child hid beneath her bed.  
Upon seeing the Soldier, she slowly, cautiously crawled out.  
“B– Bucky?” she spoke, in a soft, quiet, terrified, broken voice.

In her arms, she was clutching a photograph.   
Her, the two people he had just killed, and another man...  
Was that... him?  
No.  
No.  
No.  
No.  
No.  
No.  
No, that couldn’t be.  
No.

Panic. Guilt. Shame. Sickness. Uncertainty. Fear. So much fear.  
He wasn’t supposed to feel anything at all.

He backed up, tripping over his own feet, stumbling into the wall.   
He never broke eye contact.  
Rebecca Barnes.

George.  
Winifred. 

The gun pointed at the floor, his hand shook, unable to hold the weapon still.  
He raised it a few inches, but couldn’t go more than that.

Part of him said to do it, just do it.  
Part of him was fighting it, trying to stop, to save the child. 

His eyes filled with tears, his vision; and thus aim, blurred.

“Bucky...”

He turned, and ran.  
He ran, and he ran, and he ran, back to HYDRA.  
Back to the one place who took care of him.  
Or back to the one place who could make him forget the horror that he was trying to convince himself he didn’t just do.

Either way... they had him.  
They completely and wholly had their grasp on him.


End file.
